Chi-town
So thanks to the great hand of providence (I know you’re tempted to start singing late 80’s Michael W. Smith), I did not run in the ill-fated Chicago Marathon yesterday.
Although I tried. Last October, as I stood at the 21-mile marker, bundled up and shivering against the cold wind, waiting for my friend Elissa to run by, I knew in the corner of my mind this would be the marathon I would make my first, probably the very next year. When I saw Elissa, I hopped off the sidewalk and ran with her for about 100 yards, just to see how she was doing. It can be lonely thing to run a marathon alone, and at this late in the race I knew she might need to vent some thoughts and feelings that had been building up. I encouraged her as much as I could in those few short moments and she was off again, to tackle those last tough miles alone. Little did I know, those 100 yards were the most my feet would ever see of the Chicago Marathon. When we met up with her at the finish, as soon as she saw me, she burst into tears and declared, “I will never do that again.”
Fast-forward from October 2006 to Spring 2007. We’re both training for different half-marathons that will take place on the same day in late April, in different states. I tell her – I think I’m going to sign up for Chicago. Excited, and apparently over her “never again” declaration, she wants to do it too. Superstitious, or maybe just a little stitious, I decide to wait until after the half-marathon to sign up. What if I fall down a hill in this race and break my leg/ankle/nose and can’t train? Certainly don’t want to pay the hefty registration fee only to have that happen. There’s plenty of time.
Apparently there wasn’t.
Months and months before the October 2007 Chicago Marathon was to be run, registration was closed at 40,000 participants. Well, shoot. I admit, I was pretty disappointed.
Based on the recommendations of experienced marathon-running friends, we instead signed up for the Columbus marathon, to be held just two weeks after Chicago. Columbus is a smaller and more manageable race, but with 10,000 entrants, still has the exciting atmosphere of the big races. It’s a closer drive, and being a much smaller city in general, we can stay right downtown, within walking distance of the start and finish lines—without paying a fortune (virtually impossible to do in Chicago). More than happy with my decision, I settled into summer, proceeded with my training and didn’t think twice about Chi-town. Until yesterday.
As most people have heard, yesterday’s Chicago marathon was as close to a death march as they come. By 10 AM, just two hours into the race, record temps of 88 degrees were beating down on runners, practically baking them into the streets of the not-so-windy city. Accounts tell us that people were literally passing out left and right. At some point in the morning (reports vary on time), they simply cancelled the race. They turned off the clock, and those not at the half-way point yet were diverted back to the start, while those beyond it were urged to stop running and walk the rest of the way. Today message boards and blogs are full of people complaining that there was not enough water or Gatorade – many stations already completely out by the time runners reached them. Rather than be upset and judgmental, I’ll simply comment that it’s clear the organizers were not ready for the vast increase in fluids all the runners would need… nor take into account the amount of water runners would grab to simply dump over their head. From what I’ve read, the great citizens of Chicago, in the wake of a disappointing Cubs loss, stepped it up like champs by going from simple spectators to delivering water to the runners by any means they could. Although despite this valiant team effort, I cannot imagine worse conditions to run a race in.
Chicago is widely known among runners, at least in the midwest, as a great first marathon. I have no doubt that many runners on yesterday’s course were first-timers. It’s flat, well-run, has a ton of fan support along the whole course, and it takes place, weather-wise, at a perfect time of year. Well, usually.
Thank you God it was not my first marathon.
---------------------------
Chad Schieber, a 35-year old Midland, MI police officer, passed out late in the race and subsequently died in the hospital less than an hour later. A man who regularly risked his life on the job, collapsed just a few miles ahead of his wife, Sarah, who was also running the race. An autopsy showed he died of a heart condition called mitral valve prolapse, not of a heat-related illness as was first assumed. According to this article he was a Christian man who was wholly devoted to his wife, three children and church. My heartfelt sympathies and prayers go out to his family and friends.
So thanks to the great hand of providence (I know you’re tempted to start singing late 80’s Michael W. Smith), I did not run in the ill-fated Chicago Marathon yesterday.
Although I tried. Last October, as I stood at the 21-mile marker, bundled up and shivering against the cold wind, waiting for my friend Elissa to run by, I knew in the corner of my mind this would be the marathon I would make my first, probably the very next year. When I saw Elissa, I hopped off the sidewalk and ran with her for about 100 yards, just to see how she was doing. It can be lonely thing to run a marathon alone, and at this late in the race I knew she might need to vent some thoughts and feelings that had been building up. I encouraged her as much as I could in those few short moments and she was off again, to tackle those last tough miles alone. Little did I know, those 100 yards were the most my feet would ever see of the Chicago Marathon. When we met up with her at the finish, as soon as she saw me, she burst into tears and declared, “I will never do that again.”
Fast-forward from October 2006 to Spring 2007. We’re both training for different half-marathons that will take place on the same day in late April, in different states. I tell her – I think I’m going to sign up for Chicago. Excited, and apparently over her “never again” declaration, she wants to do it too. Superstitious, or maybe just a little stitious, I decide to wait until after the half-marathon to sign up. What if I fall down a hill in this race and break my leg/ankle/nose and can’t train? Certainly don’t want to pay the hefty registration fee only to have that happen. There’s plenty of time.
Apparently there wasn’t.
Months and months before the October 2007 Chicago Marathon was to be run, registration was closed at 40,000 participants. Well, shoot. I admit, I was pretty disappointed.
Based on the recommendations of experienced marathon-running friends, we instead signed up for the Columbus marathon, to be held just two weeks after Chicago. Columbus is a smaller and more manageable race, but with 10,000 entrants, still has the exciting atmosphere of the big races. It’s a closer drive, and being a much smaller city in general, we can stay right downtown, within walking distance of the start and finish lines—without paying a fortune (virtually impossible to do in Chicago). More than happy with my decision, I settled into summer, proceeded with my training and didn’t think twice about Chi-town. Until yesterday.
As most people have heard, yesterday’s Chicago marathon was as close to a death march as they come. By 10 AM, just two hours into the race, record temps of 88 degrees were beating down on runners, practically baking them into the streets of the not-so-windy city. Accounts tell us that people were literally passing out left and right. At some point in the morning (reports vary on time), they simply cancelled the race. They turned off the clock, and those not at the half-way point yet were diverted back to the start, while those beyond it were urged to stop running and walk the rest of the way. Today message boards and blogs are full of people complaining that there was not enough water or Gatorade – many stations already completely out by the time runners reached them. Rather than be upset and judgmental, I’ll simply comment that it’s clear the organizers were not ready for the vast increase in fluids all the runners would need… nor take into account the amount of water runners would grab to simply dump over their head. From what I’ve read, the great citizens of Chicago, in the wake of a disappointing Cubs loss, stepped it up like champs by going from simple spectators to delivering water to the runners by any means they could. Although despite this valiant team effort, I cannot imagine worse conditions to run a race in.
Chicago is widely known among runners, at least in the midwest, as a great first marathon. I have no doubt that many runners on yesterday’s course were first-timers. It’s flat, well-run, has a ton of fan support along the whole course, and it takes place, weather-wise, at a perfect time of year. Well, usually.
Thank you God it was not my first marathon.
---------------------------
Chad Schieber, a 35-year old Midland, MI police officer, passed out late in the race and subsequently died in the hospital less than an hour later. A man who regularly risked his life on the job, collapsed just a few miles ahead of his wife, Sarah, who was also running the race. An autopsy showed he died of a heart condition called mitral valve prolapse, not of a heat-related illness as was first assumed. According to this article he was a Christian man who was wholly devoted to his wife, three children and church. My heartfelt sympathies and prayers go out to his family and friends.
1 Comments:
At 4/01/2008 2:37 PM,
seeMohr said…
The lady that watches my daughter was in the marathon. She made it.
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